


House Call

by RoseAmaranth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Banter, F.R.I.D.A.Y - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Mentioned Pepperony, Pre-Relationship, Stephen is very understanding, Tony is afraid of magic, Tony with PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 05:03:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20058466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseAmaranth/pseuds/RoseAmaranth
Summary: Tony gets banged up more than usual during a mission. FRIDAY calls a doctor to take care of him.





	House Call

**Author's Note:**

> I really just love the idea of Doctor Stephen Strange being a doctor for the team. Specifically Tony Stark. 
> 
> I tagged Tony as having PTSD but there is nothing triggering or anything like that. It's merely mentioned.

Tony, being a superhero and all, often received minor and major injuries to his person. It was a small price he was willing to pay to ensure the safety of the thousands of innocent lives in danger who depended on him. His team was made up of many mutant (he preferred the term 'enhanced', but the government never agreed with him) who could heal quickly, if they even received any injuries at all, but he only had his suit of metal and wits to keep him safe.

Which, obviously, wasn't the same as superhuman durability and enhanced healing abilities.

Naturally, he ignored the injuries most of the time. They often weren't bad enough to need more than time to heal anyway, so he didn't bother going to a doctor. FRIDAY, his artificial intelligence, tried unsuccessfully (as many before her) to get him to see a proper doctor. Tony didn't have time for a doctor to poke around and find millions of things to claim were wrong with him because he was rich and could actually pay for it. He didn't have time to be someone's fat paycheck; he had lives to save and a team to try and keep together.

This time, however, even he could admit he was in a bit of trouble. Somehow, while fighting a few hundred thousand bots ordered to kill the Avengers, a few were able to penetrate his suit with blades and propulsion beams similar to his. He was burned badly in quite a few places, his suit making quick work of stopping any permanent damage, and he had jagged cuts on his abdomen, back, leg, and arm. He was also sure his finger was broken and he definitely had a dislocated shoulder.

FRIDAY insisted he see a doctor, but he still tried to refuse.

“I know it seems like I'm in bad shape, but I feel like I could fight a hundred more battles.” He stumbled into his workshop, his suit dissolving back into the arc reactor, and collapsed into a ratty couch in the corner of the room. Something was wrong in his side as well.

“I'm calling a doctor, sir.” He groaned loudly in protest. No one in his life ever listened. Not Rhodey. Not Peter. Not even his own creations.

“He'll be here in-” she didn't get to finish as a circle of glowing orange...embers?...flashed a few feet away from where he sat and out stepped a tall man in a really weird outfit. “-now.”

“My name is Doctor Stephen Strange. What seems to be the-” He broke off as he laid eyes on Tony's battered form. He tried to sit up and look somewhat more presentable, but a sharp pain in his side had him wheezing. The man was crouching down before him within a blink of his eyes, running glowing fingers across his skin and humming softly. Tony jerked back at the sudden invasion of his personal space, but this _Doctor Strange_ character remained there, lips twisted downward.

“Three broken ribs. Dislocated left shoulder. Two possibly broken fingers. Minor burns along your right arm and your thigh. Superficial cuts to the face on the right cheek, lip, and left eyebrow. Ecchymosis, otherwise known as a black eye; both eyes. Your nose may be broken.” One hand gently held his chin, Tony's gaze tracing over his features while Strange examined him, and moved his head left and then right before nodding and removing his shirt with a wave of his hand. Tony yelped in response, but Strange ignored him, instead studying his skin with narrowed eyes. His right hand still glowed, a circular orange circular magic disk with weird symbols on it tracing over his skin.

“More minor cuts along your upper body. Abrasions, probably from the suit rubbing against your skin during the battle. Lower back and chest contusions, though they are minor and only need ice. Old scars from...previous surgeries, I presume. There is nerve damage in your left arm, but it is older, correct?” He waited for a stunned Tony Stark to affirm before continuing his exam. “Eight-inch cuts. About...an inch deep each. Thankfully, they aren't around anything vital, but I definitely need to close them up now. Your ankle is sprained as well.” This was probably the weirdest medical examination he ever had. Strange disappeared through another portal and Tony gaped at him.

“Hey! What's the big idea?” The doctor returned with a bag clearly full of medical supplies if the _'Property of Manhattan Emergency Hospital'_ was anything to go by. He made quick work of unloading the bag with a wave of his hands and crouched down in front of Tony again, gaze sweeping over his skin and lighting a fire under his skin. He wasn't really the bashful type, but his chest held an array of scars he would rather not have displayed. 

Strange's eyes softened before he blinked it away and resumed his work. He cleaned out the cut along his chest first, glowing hands firm but gentle. Once the stitches were set, he had Tony move so he could access his back and repeated the soothing actions he did on Tony's chest. His eyes drooped as Strange finished up the last stitch before stepping back and taking Tony's arm in his hands. The orange glow, dim before, flared almost like a flame as the doctor braced himself.

Surprised, and maybe a little scared, he pulled away from the doctor and glared. Strange, for his part, only looked irritated by him.

“Look, doc, I don't mean to be a problem here but what the hell? Why do your hands keep glowing like that? What kind of doctor are you?” Strange rolled his eyes and huffed.

“I'm actually a sorcerer and this orange energy is my magic. I was previously a surgeon, however, so I have extensive medical knowledge. An accident left me unable to use my hands for proper surgery since they suffered nerve damage and have become weak and tremble too much. I can channel my magic into them for periods of time so they become steady and strong again. In order to set your shoulder, I need them to be strong enough to grip your arm and pull. If that makes you uncomfortable-” Tony shook his head, though he was definitely not a fan of that explanation. He needed to trust this man because otherwise, he'd have to figure out another way to set his shoulder.

“Hold still. On three.” Tony opened his eyes from where he scrunched them closed and glared at the doctor.

“All you doctors lie. It's never _on three_.” Strange actually smirked at him.

“Three.” Tony yelped as his shoulder jerked and clicked into place. Strange then went and carefully wrapped it, winding the wide strand of gauze around his shoulder and across his chest until it was thick and snug. After, he stepped back to admire his work, still fucking smirking.

“Was that better for you, Mister Stark?” Tony glowered up at him but couldn't deny the doctor at least hadn't lied.

“Well, I appreciate the not lying to your patients thing, but I'm not a big fan of your bedside manner.” The doctor chuckled.

“I didn't usually have such difficult patients, and being a surgeon meant most of my time spent with them was when they were off in dreamland. Now, I'm usually dealing with dangerous beings who don't particularly care if I lie or not seeing as they are trying to kill me. So, I suppose, my bedside manners are a little rusty.” Tony frowned.

“Wait, if you're out of practice now and do all this...magic stuff...how come you're here? My AI said she was calling a _doctor_, which I assumed meant a current one.” Strange shrugged, taking Tony's battered hand in his own and shutting Tony up immediately. A blush fanned across his cheeks at the feel of smooth warm hands against his skin. The faint orange glow still made him nervous, but he swallowed that down in favor of watching Strange's face. The look of concentration, of calculating blue-green eyes and the slant of his mouth as he thought, well, it was kind of attractive.

In a totally objective artistic way, of course. Tony was going to be married soon. 

“Okay, I'm going to need to x-ray your fingers, ankle, and ribs before I continue. Just to be sure.” Tony arched a brow.

“Your magic voodoo couldn't tell you for certain?” Strange glanced up from where he was now examining Tony's swollen ankle and furrowed his brows.

“A doctor always gets another opinion. In this case, I want to get some x-rays done so I can see in black and white before I set anything. My magic helps me see the injuries, but I guess old habits die hard.” Tony nodded and winced when Strange moved his foot a certain way. The doctor glanced up.

“That hurt?” Tony nodded, lip between his teeth. The doctor nodded and stood, brushing his robes off and opening yet another portal. 

“Follow me. We'll take the x-rays so I can get a good look at everything. Especially that ankle.” Tony glared at the glowing portal and shook his head.

“No can do, doc. I don't go through mysterious holes in my living room. Even with mysterious and handsome magic strangers named Doctor Strange.” He nearly bit on his tongue for admitting he found the man handsome, but Strange only blinked at him and huffed.

“You let me set your shoulder with magic. I checked you over with magic. I even set the stitches with magic. Why can't you trust this?” Tony crossed his arms and winced when pain flared up in his shoulder and hand.

“I have my reasons, okay? Can't you bring the machines here?” Strange gaped at him.

“You want me to borrow, no _steal_, thousands of dollars worth of equipment from the hospital just because you're afraid of magic? That's ridiculous!” Tony felt his temper flaring at the doctor's incredulous tone. He couldn't admit to this stranger that his fear of the portal had nothing really to do with the magic. Flashes of the wormhole over New York popped in his head and he fought the urge to crawl onto his couch and lay in the fetal position.

Strange, still watching him, sighed.

“Forget it. I will have to rely on my magic for this. Okay, Stark, sit back down, please. It's fine. We don't have to go.” He closed the portal and relief washed over Tony when he realized the doctor wasn't going to make him go through it.

“Thanks, doc. Really.” Strange smiled. It was small, barely there, but Tony saw it. His heart warmed at the sight, the feeling spreading through his body. He sensed Strange wasn't someone who smiled often.

“It is no problem. Just hold still and we'll be finished in no time at all.” He set to work on Tony's fingers, grip surprisingly firm but still careful as he examined them once more with that look of concentration. Tony couldn't help but stare, tracing his eyes along the scars that lined the doctor's hands, and wonder what caused such an injury. He wondered then if those hands, carefully tracing Tony's throbbing finger, often ached. If he needed to take something for it.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Strange was wrapping and setting his fingers in splints. He blinked down at the fingers wrapped together and then up at Strange.

“They weren't broken, merely sprained, so I am just wrapping them so they can heal properly. Prognosis is about a week. Your ankle is in the same state, lucky for you, so once I wrap it we'll be finished here.” Tony nodded along.

“And my ribs?” Strange began wrapping his ankle with precise and measured movements. It was extremely soothing to watch, his eyes falling heavy again.

“Those, unfortunately _are_ broken, but there isn't really much I can do for that except offer pain medication and advise you to keep your movements minimal for at least two weeks. Don't wear anything that would restrict your ability to breathe.” Tony snorted.

“I'll be sure to keep away from the girdle.” Strange didn't react at all to that, simply setting the ankle wrap in place and standing.

“Your ribs will hurt like a bitch for a while, but they will heal on their own. Nothing was punctured, so you'll be fine. Oh, and one last thing; no missions until they heal up.” Tony jerked in alarm. No _missions_?! Was this doctor insane?

“But doc! The world may come crashing down at any moment. Iron Man can't be put on bed rest!” Strange sent everything away with a wave of his hand and offered Tony an unimpressed look.

“I'm sure the other Avengers can handle it without you throwing yourself at danger for a little while. You can direct everything from here, and I'm sure someone as smart as you claim to be can make one of those suits fight without you going too. Besides, it won't be for too long. I'm sure the world will be okay without Tony Stark for one month.” Never mind the fact Tony already had suits that could be controlled from his workshop; he needed to be in the heat of battle. It's what Iron Man did! How could he be benched? Stupid ribs. He was going to need to work on his suits to better protect him.

“I would also recommend you to limit your time building anything. Or carrying anything weighing more than twenty pounds. Only for a week or two, though. If your wheezing continues after that, I'll come back and examine them closer.” He opened the portal again, Tony able to catch glimpses of a bookshelf and some objects he didn't recognize.

“Leaving so soon, doc? You really know how to treat your patients!” Strange rolled his eyes - _rolled them!_ \- and tilted his head.

“Again, not a practicing doctor. Though, to be honest, I wasn't all that friendly with the patients when I was. But seeing as you're nearly asleep on your couch, I figured I should show myself out and let you rest. You definitely need it.” Tony shook his head and widened his eyes to prove he wasn't about to fall asleep. Despite his comments about Strange's behavior, he actually found him really interesting. He wanted to actually get to know the mysterious magic doctor who could no longer practice surgery.

“Well, I haven't even paid you yet. And what about those pain meds? Won't I need crutches for this ankle?” Strange wiggled his fingers and a paper fluttered on the coffee table. Presumably his medication.

“Payment isn't necessary seeing as I'm no practicing doctor anymore. This was more of....a favor. Which I may need in return someday in the future. Think of this as a business transaction; I scratch your back and you scratch mine.” The cape he wore fluttered and Strange nodded.

“I imagine you could probably make something far more comfortable than crutches to move around with, but if you would like a crutch I can certainly get you one. If that's all you need...” Tony sat up, wincing and groaning, to snatch up what was indeed a prescription for pain medication. 

“Okay. Thank you, doc.” He was finally ready to admit maybe he was tired and should probably asleep, but he also didn't want Strange to leave yet. He scrambled for something to say, but exhaustion and pain were mixing and making it hard to think clearly.

“Are you hungry at all? I can have a five-course meal sent up in, like, no time at all.” Strange's face remained blank as he merely stared at Tony, eyes narrowing but unable to hide the concern flashing in them.

Tony was just trying to be nice. You know, mostly.

“I really should pass. My sorcerer duties need tending to at the moment.” He turned back to the portal and was about to step through when Tony blurted anything he could to stop that boot from leaving the floor.

“Raincheck, then? Your people call mine?” Thoughtful eyes scanned him for a few moments and the doctor pursed his lips. He should have just let him go.

“Okay. Your AI has my number.” He waved and disappeared, the portal closing behind him with a _whoosh_. Tony leaned back into the couch and sighed, though he was unable to knock the smile off his face. 

“Sir, would you like the number in your phone now?” No, he did not scramble for his phone. He certainly didn't consider sending a text so Strange could have his direct number too. Nope. Not at all.

“Yes please.”


End file.
